Stop, Don’t Stop

A man assaulted me, once.

It happened at a house party.  I was very drunk. I was laying on the floor on top of a sleeping bag with a blanket around me.  I had removed my dress and was wearing only my bra.

I was wrapped pretty securely in that blanket, laying on my front, face squished into somebody’s rolled up hoody.

Next to me, a man who hadn’t spoken a word to me all night waited until the room went quiet before rolling over to me and trying to wake me.  He lifted himself so he was almost on top of me.  His hand was on the small of my back. He whispered my name in my ear, saying wake up, you know you want me, wake up. I want you.  You want me. Wake up.

I did not want him. Not at all.

He continued to try to wake me. I continued to pretend to be asleep, thinking, he’ll stop in a minute.

Eventually, after quite some time, he stopped trying to wake me up and instead pulled my blanket loose from underneath me, got underneath it next to me and put his hand on my arse.  He stroked the crack, up and down. He sighed into my ear.  He rubbed the skin where my arse meets the top of my leg and dipped his finger in between. Not inside me, but he brushed my lips and pushed himself against my leg.

He thought I was asleep. He thought I was passed out.

I laid there, dead still, for quite some time, thinking, this is assault.  This man is assaulting me and I am just laying here, taking it.  His fingers are working their way into the crack of my arse and brushing my cunt lips, he is rubbing his erection against my bare leg and I am pretending to be asleep.

It was disgusting and wrong.

However.

A small part of me  enjoyed it.  A man who I had barely spoken two words to all night, who I didn’t fancy at all.  A man who, once he believed I was absolutely out for the count, proceeded to touch me between my legs without my consent.

While I lay there, a little scared and a lot worried, my cunt was growing wetter and I wanted him to slip his fingers inside.  My cunt is wet now thinking about it.  My cunt is wet and throbbing thinking about this man pushing his fingers inside me without my consent.

He did stop.  After a little while he stopped, rolled over and went to sleep.  And part of me was disappointed.

I will never understand myself sometimes.

4 thoughts on “Stop, Don’t Stop

  • I can relate to so much of this. I was molested as a young girl (from ages 11-13, when he died) by my friend’s grandfather. As wrong as it was, and I knew it was, there were moments when my body betrayed me in exactly the way you describe here.

    The darkness in me terrifies me sometimes and I fear I will never get a grip on it. That last line could have come from my fingertips.

  • I so completely recognise this. In my case it was someone I knew, but yes… that feeling of knowing it absolutely wasn’t okay… but saying nothing. And still there’s something about the memory.

    Well done for saying it. It’s so hard to say.

  • I relate to this too. As a child, I was regularly touched by an older cousin in just this sort of manner. I didn’t want it to happen, knew he shouldn’t be doing that with someone who was do young, yet at times my body rresponded. Despite now being a very put together woman, i”ve never called him on it. I just put it down to his teenage hormones. I know that some would say I could report him for assault, but in my case I don’t see the point. He didn’t ever harm me or do more than stroke my bum & pussy.

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